Fear Of Freedom

They fear from afar

The freedom denied to them

Made cold iron bars their home

Darkness their daylight

Made soft hands cruel

Eyes twisted

Hearts cold

Vented rage and spleen on corners of hyde park

Stood erect and hovered over passers by

In servile anorak and worn out jeans

Put the P back into' Proliteriat'

The M into Messiah

Made a 'name' out of 'prophet and preacher and seer'

Talked red Red,

Flushed with cheeks full of roses

Preaching marx and hope for the chained masses

You talk of liberty

Of hunger

Of crusts of bread

Of stale words and stagnant water

And endless death

There is 'no hope' you preach 'no hope of freedom'

Just the thought of it makes you run for your life

Back into your safehouse full of' possibilities'

Theories and lies

When they are gone

These children who have found the light

Who will listen?

Take the dog from the bone

And he will hunger for all he does not have

Staring at the face of poverty

In a street full of gold

Knowing the pursuit of happiness is all he has ever 'owned'

yvette m smith nov 08

poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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